Those We Trust
by Rainack
Summary: Sequel to To Have and to Hold. Nick, Greg, and Tracy's 9 year old daughter, Mara, is molested by someone she should have been able to trust. Now Nick is accused of killing her molester. Rated M for safety. Please, read and review.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"What's this about, Ecklie?" Tracy Sanders-Stokes looked at the search warrant in her hand, then back to Conrad Ecklie – her supervisor on day shift – in confusion, as her fellow day shift CSIs moved past them into the house. She caught several of them shooting her pitying looks as they moved past. Reading the warrant, Tracy felt her heart skip several beats. "Nick's gun? Doesn't he have it with him?" she asked weakly, her knees feeling as though they might buckle at any minute.

"He claims to have lost it," Ecklie responded.

Her hands fluttering in the general direction of the bedroom she shared with her husbands, Nick Sanders-Stokes and Greg Sanders-Stokes, Tracy said, "If it's here, it'll be in the lock box in the closet. He never leaves it anywhere else in the house because of the kids," she said, giving her supervisor the combination to the lock box. Feeling faint, she asked, "What happened? Is Nicky okay?"

With a sigh, Ecklie said, "There's no easy way to say this, Tracy. Nick was arrested for murdering Dan Waynright."

"What! No!" Tracy shook her head.

A/N: Hope I've got you curious as to what happens next. Evil grin Did Nick kill this Dan Waynright person? Who is Dan Waynright? Guess you'll just have to wait and see. Please read and review!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three days previously:

"Hey, Peanut!" Nick greeted his ten year old daughter, Mara, as she climbed into the backseat of his SUV.

"Hey, dad," the girl responded listlessly, sending up red flags for Nick.

Twisting around in the driver's seat, Nick looked at his daughter. Her green eyes were red rimmed, and she clutched her backpack to her as though it were a shield.

"What's wrong?" Nick inquired softly.

"Nothing, Dad. Can we just go home, please?" Mara was staring at the floorboards between her feet.

"Okay, sure," Nick replied, waving out the windshield at the school librarian, Dan Waynright, who had just locked up and was walking out to his own car.

The usually gregarious, outgoing ten year old sucked in a breath, causing Nick to wonder again about her mood. There was something there, he just had to put his finger on it.

"Did something happen at school today?" he asked softly, as he pulled the SUV into traffic.

"I don't want to talk about it! Just leave me alone!" Mara screamed, burying her face in the backpack she still clutched.

Pulling the sun visor down to keep the setting sun out of his eyes, Nick decided to drop it until they got home. He had the night off, Tracy would be home from her shift at the crime lab soon, and Greg's guest lecture at UNLV had ended hours ago.

The silence in the vehicle was only broken by the blond haired girl's soft sobs.

They broke Nick's heart, making him dread what they would discover had happen.

"Papa!" Mara threw herself into Greg's arms, breaking out in fresh tears.

Greg was at an uncharacteristic loss for words at his daughter's strange behavior.

Nick walked into Greg's office, having followed the girl into the house from the garage.

Looking up at his husband helplessly, Greg stroked Mara's back reassuringly. "What happened?"

"She wouldn't tell me," he replied somberly. "We've got to get her to tell us. This behavior... It reminds me of right after..." Nick trailed off, unsure of how Greg would react to the one thing he had never told him and Tracy about.

Greg raised an eyebrow, but didn't push. He'd always suspected there was something in Nick's past, from his childhood. Nick's reaction to crimes involving kids was just too strong. Plus, Greg and Nick tended to argue over their parenting styles.

Having been raised by an obsessively over protective mother, Greg didn't want to subject his own kids to that overprotectiveness. Nick, on the other hand, wouldn't even leave the kids with a babysitter unless they provided at least ten references from parents who'd hired them several times.

Both men turned their heads at the sound of the connecting door to the garage slamming closed. Two sets of running feet announced amply what Tracy's voice affirmed, "We're home!"

"Hey, Dad, Papa!" two voices yelled into the office, as the boys raced to their rooms to do their homework.

Tracy poked her head in the office, the smile fading from her face when she saw Mara curled up on Greg's lap. The girl's sobs had finally subsided, but her eyes were still red rimmed and puffy. She was sucking her thumb, too – something she hadn't done since she was a toddler.

Hitting her knees next to Greg's chair, Tracy reached up and stroked the little girl's cheek. Sensing her men knew about as much as she did, Tracy directed her question at Mara, "What's wrong?"

Tracy was rocked backwards on her heels when Mara launched herself from Greg's arms into hers. Between renewed sobs, Mara wailed, "He- he... ma-made m-me touch my-myself!"

The wail brought the boys running into the room, but Tracy sent them out with a wave of her hand.

Nick's face paled, and he suddenly found himself sitting on the floor with no knowledge of how he'd gotten there. "Oh, God! No!"

Neither Greg nor Tracy noticed his behavior, though, as they only had eyes for Mara right now.

"Who?" Tracy asked, as the CSI in her attempted to visually process the scared ten year old.

The school uniform the girl wore was rumpled, but that could be explained away as simply as the clothes had been worn all day. The white shirt was buttoned wrong, something Tracy thought she would have noticed that morning.

"Mr. Waynright," the frightened girl finally managed to whisper.

The utterance of the name seemed to bring Nick back to his senses. He looked over at Mara, and there was a look of such anger on his face that the little girl buried her face against Tracy's chest.

Greg and Tracy both looked up at Nick in shock.

"Nicky!" Tracy snapped at him.

Blinking in stunned realization that he had scared his daughter, Nick went over to her. Tentatively placing his hand on her back, he spoke softly, "Peanut! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! I'm not mad at you!"

Turning her head so she was peering at Nick through her blond locks, Mara sniffled. "'S okay," she finally whispered. With a wisdom that should have been beyond her years, Mara looked into Nick's eyes, and said, "Don't do anything dumb, Dad!"

"Don't worry, Peanut. I won't," Nick assured his daughter. Inside, he was seething. He wanted to get his hands on the sick son-of-a-bitch and strangle him.

Seeming to sense what Nick was keeping just below the surface, Tracy looked over him. "Call Captain Brass. Get him to come over," she said, giving Nick something to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"What!" Nick had to concentrate to keep the rage he'd been feeling for the past two days contained. He'd already bloodied his knuckles and dented his locker door, fervently wishing his locker door was the target of his rage. Anyway, it wasn't Catherine's fault.

"I'm sorry, Nicky. There is _no_ evidence of any wrong doing by Dan Waynright. Unless more victims come forward, the DA feels there isn't enough to be able to prosecute him," Catherine responded sadly. Of the entire team, she alone knew of Nick's secret. What had happened to him as a boy.

Seeing the defeated look on Nick's face, Catherine sighed, "Look, why don't you take the rest of the night off. Go home and spend it with your family. They need you more than we do right now." She paused, then went on, "Get Mara some therapy. Change the kids to another school. Help her move on."

Nick nodded numbly, his anger suddenly drained away. He drug his feet out to his SUV, not really wanting to go home yet. He knew Greg and Tracy had finally noticed his strange behavior, and they knew it had more behind it than just what had happened to Mara. He dreaded dredging up his past again.

Deciding to stop for a drink, Nick pulled into a bar he knew of near the house. He nursed his way through five beers, not really feeling anything more than a slight buzz.

Not wanting to become too inebriated to drive, he left after the fifth beer. He drove aimlessly around for a while, ignoring several calls to his cell. Finding himself parked outside of Dan Waynright's address, Nick sat with his hands clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Nick came to with the realization that he was being hauled roughly to his feet. His vision was blurry, and his ears were trying to make sense of something a familiar voice was saying.

"Nick!" the voice spoke sharply again, and Nick suddenly realized it was Brass, speaking his name.

"Huh?" he asked dumbly, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening. _Did I fall asleep in the break room again?_ he thought.

"You're in a heap load of trouble, boy!" Brass was telling him.

Something cold was slapped against his wrists, and suddenly Nick was completely alert. He took in the scene, the dead body of Dan Waynright, the broken beer bottle, overturned furniture, and the heavy weight of handcuffs around his wrists.

"Where's your gun, Nick?" Brass was asking.

"I don't know," Nick replied lamely, noting the absence of the familiar weight on his belt. He couldn't even feel the weight of the empty holster. "What's going on, Brass?" He tried to squash the panic that was rising inside of him, as a small part of his brain screamed at him, _You killed him!_

"That's what I'm hoping you can tell me, Nicky," Brass responded. "How'd you end up here?"

"I don't remember," Nick replied.

"Okay, let's start with where you went after you left work, then," Brass replied, pulling out his notebook and pen.

"I went to a bar near home. I'd never been there before, just drove past. I just needed a drink tonight, before facing my family," Nick realized sardonically that he'd picked up Greg's bad habit of babbling.

"Yeah, I heard your daughter's case was dropped," Brass said quietly before continuing his questioning. "How many did you have?" was his next question.

"Five, maybe six beers," Nick replied. "Brass, you know me. I barely get a buzz off five beers."

"Yeah, okay," Brass responded, writing in his notebook. Still writing, he called over his shoulder to one of the officers, "I need a breathalyser over here!"

Swing shift CSIs were busily processing the scene, conspicuously avoiding looking towards Nick and Brass. Everyone, from all shifts, at the lab knew Nick could be a bit of a hot head at times. Nick knew they were wondering if he'd actually done it. Hell, he himself was wondering the exact same thing.

Super Dave was kneeling over Dan Waynright's body. Looking up at the CSI nearest him, as he pulled the thermometer out of the corpse's liver, he said, "I put time of death at two to four hours ago. Rigor hasn't set in yet, lividity is fixed."

"COD?" the CSI prompted.

Looking over the corpse again, Dave noted, "Looks like he was used as a punching bag. That's not what killed him, though. GSW to the chest. My guess, it penetrated the heart. See me at the lab and I'll have the bullet for you."

Dave looked up then, unexpectedly meeting Nick's gaze. Blanching, he turned back to the body, hastily continuing to prepare it for transport to the morgue.

"So what happened next? Brass went on, drawing Nick's attention back to himself.

"I drove around for a while. Ended up parked out front," Nick said, assuming he was now inside Waynright's house. He didn't see any point in lying about it.

"What happened next? Did you decide to take the law into your own hands? Did you beat Dan Waynright to a pulp and then shoot him in the chest?" Brass was treating him like a suspect, making Nick wince. He had vowed to himself to never put him in a position to be on this side of the interrogation, especially with Brass, but here he was.

Nick began to panic again, "Wh-what? No! No! I don't remember what happened. The last thing I remember is sitting outside his house in my SUV."

"Ecklie's got days searching your house, Nick!" Brass informed his co-worker.

"They won't find anything there," he was at least able to say that with complete confidence. He suddenly felt weak, though, at the thought of Tracy and Greg, and the kids, and what they would be going through right now. He was horror struck at the thought of what Tracy must be going through, having her own friends and colleagues searching the house, not knowing what had happened.

The CSI who'd been talking to Dave approached Nick, a GSR kit in his hands. The man tapped the cloth tester to several places on both of Nick's hands, then used some chemicals to reveal what Nick already knew was there.

"Positive for GSR," the CSI, his vest read Smith, told Brass.

"Brass," Nick began, "I was at the range before shift, getting in some target practice."

"Okay, sure," Brass replied, making another note in his damned book.

_Shit!_ Nick thought. _I'm screwed!_

A/N: I hope everyone is enjoying this. It's hard to tell, because no one's left me any reviews. I live off of reviews, so please, take the time to review. Let me know what you like, don't like, etc.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Ecklie, damn it! This is Nick we're talking about here! You've got to let us work this case!" Catherine whipped around to face the object of her current wrath.

"Catherine, this is exactly the reason I can't, and you know it!" Ecklie replied evenly, arms folded across his chest, signaling he wasn't willing to speak further about the subject.

Catherine ignored the signal, braving ahead with her argument, "If you won't hand if over to nights entirely, at least let us work with days on it. Side by side!" She had managed to calm her temper, showing she could keep control of herself and her team. She was no Gil Grissom, but she could control her emotions, damn it!

Ecklie considered for a moment, moving his hands to his pockets. "No night shift CSI is to be left alone with any evidence. If I hear any complaints from days about unprofessional conduct, I'm suspending all night shift CSIs for the remainder of this investigation!"

With a hasty, "Thanks, Ecklie! You won't regret this!" Catherine spun on her heel, running out of his office.

"I have a feeling I already do," Ecklie muttered to himself before going back to his paperwork.

Catherine grabbed the break room door frame to control her slide across the slick floor.

All eyes turned to her, anxious to know if they'd be allowed to help find out what had happened – find out whether Nick Sanders-Stokes, whom most of them had known and respected for years, had snapped and committed murder.

"Ray, I want you in with CSI Smith, on Nick's gun," Catherine began handing out assignments. "Wendy, I want you in with Tracy. She's not allowed to handle any evidence, so she's digging more deeply into Waynright's past."

Catherine was turning towards the newest team member, who had joined them when Sara Sidle had finally retired and went to be with her husband, Gil Grissom, several years ago, when there was a knock at the break room door.

Turning, Catherine's face lit in a smile.

Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle walked in, grave expressions on their faces.

"We heard about what happened, and thought you could use some help," Gil spoke into the stunned silence.

"Grissom! Sara!" Catherine exclaimed.

"Where do you need us?" Sara replied, eager to dig into the puzzle they were presented with. She had always thought of Nick as a brother, and hoped they would find evidence that pointed away from him.

"Nick's in interrogation, being questioned again. Go see what you can find out," Catherine instructed. I'll be in the AV lab with the day shift tech, listening to the nine-one-one call," Catherine said in dismissal.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Nick!" no response, "Nicky!"

Nick blinked, looking up from where his cuffed hands rested on the table in front of him.

"Griss?" Nick asked tentatively, disbelievingly. His eyes traveled past his old boss, "Sara? What are you two doing here?"

"We came to help out," Gil said, as he pulled out a chair and sat down. His eyes traveled over the man sitting across from him.

Nick was wearing an orange jumpsuit, since his clothes had been taken for processing. His liquid brown eyes were dull, pupils enlarged, the whites red and bloodshot. A bruise was starting to form on his left cheek bone, possibly the result of a right hook. Nick's own knuckles were bloodied on his right hand, new contusions overlaying day old scabs.

"What happened to your hand?" Gil asked.

"Hit my locker yesterday," Nick replied.

"Okay, but you've got fresh cuts, too. Did you hit Waynright?" Gil probed.

"It's hard to remember," Nick's brow furrowed in concentration. "Yeah, I think I may have hit him once."

"Tell me what you remember," Gil prompted.

Sighing, Nick rested his head on his hands, elbows propped up on the table. "I've already gone through this with Brass."

"Go through it again, Nick," Gil commanded, trying to snap Nick out of the despair he was quickly sliding into. "Where'd you go after work? Cath said she sent you home early yesterday."

"Yeah. I think it was around nine p.m. I went to a bar near home," Nick replied, head still resting in his hands.

"What bar?" Gil asked.

"I..." Nick thought hard. He drove past the place everyday. He should know the name of it, even if he'd never stopped in there before. "Big Winnings Bar and Grill," Nick finally supplied.

"Okay, I know of it. What happened inside? Did you talk to anyone?"

Squeezing his eyes closed, Nick tried to bring back his memory of the bar. For some reason, it seemed really fuzzy. "Um... The bartender," eyes squeezed shut again. "A man, about my age. He bought me a drink. Told me his name, but I can't remember. I still had my badge on, and he asked me about working in law enforcement."

Nick groaned, as his vision swam from the struggle to remember.

_He was working on his fifth beer. He could easily stomach five beers and not bat an eye, but tonight, he felt drunk after that fifth beer._

"_Hey, buddy, I think you've had enough," this came from the man who'd bought him a beer earlier. "Let me drive you home."_

"'_S okay, I'll call my wife," Nick tried to shrug the guy off, but he had already pulled Nick's arm over his shoulder. Then they were stumbling out to the parking lot, and Nick's SUV._

"Drugged," Nick whispered hoarsely.

"What?" Gil leaned forward, having not clearly heard what Nick said.

Nick looked up at Gil, a small measure of hope sparking in his eyes. "I think I was drugged," he repeated more clearly.

Turning to Sara, Gil said, "Sara, go find out if anyone got a sample of Nick's blood. If not, get someone in here to do it!"

Nodding, Sara rose from the table and rushed from the room.

"What else do you remember, Nick?" Gil prompted the other man.

"I thought I drove around for a while. Don't think I was the one doing the driving, though."

_He was sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV, slumped against the door. The man from the bar – Nick struggled to remember his name – was driving. On the seat next to him, Nick's phone was ringing. Nick tried desperately to reach for it, answer it, but his hands wouldn't cooperate. The driver just ignored the phone._

_After a while, Nick had no idea how long, the SUV came to a stop. The man got out and walked around to Nick's side. It suddenly occurred to Nick that he should be terrified. He was being kidnaped again. Whatever drug he'd been slipped left him feeling weak and fuzzy brained._

_When the door Nick was leaning against finally opened, he fell out into the waiting arms fo the man from the bar. Something was placed over Nick's nose and mouth, and darkness finally claimed him._

A/N: The next few chapters are going to get into the evidence that was found. There won't be any Nick in it, though Tracy will be in one of the chapters, as she tries to find out more about the man who molested her daughter and any enemies he may have. And poor Greg is left at home with the kids to worry.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

While Gil and Sara were in talking to Nick, Catherine was in the AV lab with Archie's day shift counterpart, Bethany.

"_Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"_

"_A man's been shot," the voice went on to rattle off the address of Dan Waynright's home. "Hurry, I- I think he's dying!" the voice was high and panicked._

"_Sir, can you tell me what happened?" the operator's voice inquired calmly._

"_He was shot by a cop, in cold blood!"_

_There was a click, signaling the end of the call._

"Well, we have a man's voice," Bethany began. "Voice modulation would indicate he's under stress. Nothing really surprising there. I'd be nervous if I saw someone shot..." Catherine gave her a look, and Bethany went on, "Or if I shot someone."

"What phone number did he call from?" Catherine asked, allowing the comment to pass.

"Nine-one-one system showed it came from the house," Bethany replied.

"So, there was someone else there," Catherine wasn't sure how she felt about that, since it meant that either they had someone using Nick to cover their own tracks, or an eye witness to Nick killing his daughter's molester. Thinking about what Nick had revealed to her so many years ago, she wondered if he would actually be capable of doing what he'd been accused of. She sincerely hoped not.

"Let's see if there's any background noises," Bethany suited actions to words by clicking a few buttons on the screen.

They both listened intently to what sounded like silence, until Catherine said, "Wait, back it up and pull up the volume."

Bethany did as requested, and both women heard a moan, followed by Nick's slurred, "What the hell? What'd you do with my gun?" Then their was the thump of something meaty hitting the floor.

Catherine allowed herself a small smile. It wouldn't clear Nick, in and of itself, but it seemed to be a step in the right direction.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Sara followed Gil into the morgue, where Dave Phillips, head M.E., was just finishing up his autopsy of Dan Waynright.

"Gil! Sara! I heard you were in town," Dave said, as he pulled the sheet back, exposing Waynright's head and torso. "I'm sorry you had to come back under these circumstances."

"Hey, Super Dave," Sara greeted the M.E.

Dave raised an eyebrow, "You know, I haven't been called that since Doc Robbins retired and I took over as chief M.E. I miss it."

Walk us through how he died," Gil requested, watching Sara as she winced at the state the dead man's face was in. It looked as if he had been held against a cheese grater and shredded.

"As you can see, he was severely beaten. Fists, I'd say. I sent some pieces of foreign skin to DNA. I also picked some fragments of what look like black leather from between his teeth and sent them to trace."

Looking from the mangled face to Sara, Gil said, "If Nick had done all of this, his own hand would look as bad as this. He had some broken scabs from where he punched his locker the other day," he paused, thinking about the dent and dried blood they'd observed on the locker. They'd stopped to look at it to confirm Nick's story, before going to the morgue. Continuing, he said, "And the fresh wounds corroborate his story of punching Waynright once or twice. Waynright was obviously hit many more times than that."

"That doesn't rule out the possibility of Nick shooting him, though," Sara said, playing devil's advocate, only to gain a glare from her husband. "Though it's looking like there was someone there with Nick. An accomplis, or did he kill Waynright and try to frame Nick?"

"I've already sent the bullet to ballistics. They should be comparing it to Nick's gun now," Dave interjected before Gil or Sara could say anything else. Gil was still giving Sara a look that said he couldn't believe she thought Nick capable of murder.

Finally, Gil turned back to Dave, "Thanks, Dave!" he offered the M.E. a small smile.

"Anytime! It was nice seeing you again," Dave replied to their retreating backs.

"Firing one," the day shift ballistics expert, Travis Wyatt, called out, before test firing a round from Nick's gun into the tank.

"Please tell me you already tested that gun for recent firing," Gil admonished the man as he walked into the ballistics lab closely followed by Sara.

"There was no need to, Grissom. Sander-Stokes admitted to firing his weapon on the range before his last shift," Wyatt said, as he reached into the water and retrieved the bullet.

He handed Nick's Glock back to Ray Langston and Barry Smith, so they could process the weapon for DNA and trace. Then he took the spent bullet he was holding and placed it under the specialized microscope that would allow him to view the two bullets side by side.

Looking through the lenses, he adjusted the focus until he could clearly see both bullets, then he spun the bullet he'd fired until he was happy with the results. Straightening, he gestured to the microscope, "Care to take a look?"

Gil approached the microscope as if it were a deadly serpent, ready to strike him. There was a fifty-fifty chance he wouldn't like what the microscope had to show him.

"Damn!" he said, as he stepped back so Sara could look.

She straightened after a moment. "Stria are a match," she spoke the words quietly.

The couple somberly thanked Wyatt, and walked out of the ballistics lab.

"It's not the end of the world for Nick. Just because the bullet came from Nick's gun, doesn't mean he's the one who fired it, right?" Sara tried to rationalize.

"A jury may not see it that way," Gil replied sadly, as they walked into toxicology.

Day shift's toxicology lab rat was just pulling a page from the printer. She looked up at Gil and Sara with the kind of surprise that comes from being yanked out of deep concentration.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to startle you," Sara apologized. "Have you finished running a tox screen on Nick Sanders-Stokes's blood, by any chance?"

"Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom, right?" she asked before offering the paper the printer had just spewed out.

Sara and Gil both looked at the page, then each other. Their faces lighting in grins.

"Very low levels of GHB, date rape drug," Gil stated. "Almost too low to detect."

"Levels that low, Nick had to have been slipped only enough to make him compliant, unable to truly comprehend what was happening, but not lose consciousness," Sara replied, thanking the stars above that any of the drug had remained in his system for the tox screen to pick up.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

As she was leaving AV, Catherine received a text from Gil, _Dave sent some pieces of leather to Trace, and some skin not belonging to our vic to DNA. Followup?_

Sending back a quick, _On it!_ she headed down the hall to the Trace lab.

"Hodges! Isn't today your day off?" Catherine asked, in astonishment upon entering Trace to find her night shift trace expert peering through a microscope.

"Ecklie asked me to cover for Dania, who's out sick today," was Hodge's response.

"Does he know you're working on trace for Nick's case?"

"Yes, he trusts me." David Hodges thought he heard a muttered, "Kiss ass!" from Catherine, but chose to ignore it.

"Have you had a chance to look at that black fleck the M.E. sent over?" Catherine asked.

"As a matter of fact, I was just looking at it. It's a piece of black leather from a pair of work gloves. Gloves like most of the CSIs in the department wear when it's cold out."

"Thanks, Hodges!" Catherine replied, as she turned and headed for DNA.

She received her results quickly there. Not surprisingly, the skin flecks found on Waynright had been Nick's.

Now Catherine was heading to the layout room.

Ecklie looked up from the shirt he was processing, as Catherine walked in.

"Ecklie?" Catherine asked questioningly, surprised to see the Crime Lab head working on the case. "What are you doing here?"

A slightly pained, but guilty look on his face, Ecklie muttered, "Thought you guys could use an extra pair of hands."

Shrugging, Catherine said, "Do you know if any black gloves were collected at the scene?"

Ecklie thought over the bags of evidence he'd looked at so far, before he'd started processing Nick's shirt. He remembered seeing a bag labeled black gloves.

"Yeah, there were a pair of black work gloves. They weren't found at the scene, though. They were in Nick's SUV." Looking through the evidence bags again, Ecklie found the one containing the gloves. "Here."

Carefully cutting the evidence seal, Catherine extracted the gloves, and set them side by side on the lighted table. Picking up a magnifying glass, she proceeded to examine both gloves, front and back.

The knuckles of the right glove had several flecks of leather missing.

Picking up the ALS, Catherine shown the light over the glove. The knuckles glowed, proving the glove had been used to punch someone. Grabbing a swab, Catherine collected a sample of the blood to send to DNA.

Looking more closely, minute fluorescing particles caught her eye. Picking up a sterile pad, Catherine rubbed it over the flecks. Then she sprayed the pad with gun shot residue detection fluid. The pad turned blue.

"Hmm..."

"What's that?" Ecklie asked, looking up from his inspection of the t-shirt on the table before him.

"You said this was found in Nick's SUV?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"There was someone else in that house, Ecklie. I don't think Nick did it. He was found, passed out on the livingroom floor near Waynright's body. How'd this glove get back out to his truck?" her eye was caught by something else. Brandishing the glove triumphantly at Ecklie, as if he were disputing her theory, she said, "Slide bite! Someone, who's never shot a gun before, was wearing these gloves when Waynright was beat up and shot! Nick's an expert marksman! He wouldn't have gotten slide bite!"

"You're right," Ecklie calmly replied. Then, "Cath!" as he was still trying to catch her attention.

"What?" Catherine finally pulled her eyes away from the ragged tear in the glove where it would have covered the web of the hand between the thumb and index finger.

"This is the shirt Nick was wearing at the scene. He told Brass he'd changed his shirt after leaving the range. If the GSR on his hands was from shooting Waynright, he'd have heavy amounts of GSR on his shirt, too. He was in the same room when the trigger was pulled, but he didn't get enough on him to have been the person to pull the trigger."

"If I'm right, then," Catherine trailed off, as she meticulously began to turn the glove inside out. She swabbed the liner of the glove, hoping to pick up the true shooter's epithelials.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Tracy smiled wanly up at Wendy, as the night shift CSI joined the day shift CSI in the database lab. Wendy had never worked with Tracy before, but Nick was constantly talking about her.

"How you holding up?" Wendy asked, squeezing the other woman's shoulder gently.

"Barely holding it together," was Tracy's quiet answer. "They won't let me see him." Tracy turned back to the computer, fighting the tears that desperately wanted to fall. Clearing her throat, Tracy managed, "Okay. So Dan Waynright only started working at the school the beginning of this school year."

Wendy sat down, pulling her chair up next to Tracy's. "Looks like he was a librarian in the Las Angeles Unified School District for a couple years before that. Hmm... That's odd, his records there are sealed. He was released, but it doesn't say why."

"Okay, let's start there," Tracy sent a query out to the school district, knowing they would likely have to wait a day or two for a response. Now that Waynright was dead, the records could be unsealed for law enforcement.

Continuing to search for information, Tracy turned to the Internet, doing a general search for Dan Waynright. She came across a year old article from the_ LA Times_. It was relatively short, and was buried in the paper, but it talked about a girl who attended the school Waynright worked at. She'd accused Waynright of inappropriately touching her. His case had been dismissed for lack of evidence. The school had released him from service at the end of the school year, though.

"Damn!" Tracy exclaimed, putting her head in her hands, as she felt a throbbing headache coming on. "Damn! Mara's not the first!"

Wendy read the article herself, then said, "We need to find out who the girl is. One of her family members could be our suspect."

Tracy picked up the phone, after researching LAUSD's phone number.

When the phone was picked up on the other end, Tracy introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Tracy Sanders-Stokes with the Las Vegas Crime Lab." She explained what she needed, and waited patiently while she was put on hold.

"Ms. Sanders-Stokes, I'm sorry, but I can't give student contact information out," was the curt response.

"I'm not sure you understand," Tracy replied tersely, "this is an active homicide investigation, and someone in that child's family could be our suspect. You know you can go to jail for obstruction of justice!" she gritted her teeth to avoid yelling at the woman.

"Okay, but you didn't get this information from me."

"Thank you!" was Tracy's relieved response.

A moment later, Tracy was on the phone again.

"Hello?" a woman's voice answered the phone.

"Hi, Mrs. Delgado. This is Tracy Sanders-Stokes from the Las Vegas Crime Lab..." she was cut off before she could finish her sentence.

"Oh, my God! Has something happened to Hector?"

"Well, no, I don't think... You mean he's in Vegas?" Tracy asked, confused at the woman's reaction to her call.

"He's been there for a week. A business conference. He's okay? Isn't he?"

"I'm sure he's fine, ma'am. Do you know where he's staying?"

"Yes. He's staying at the Tropicana."

"Thank you, ma'am," Tracy said and hung up.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"I've got another suspect!" Tracy exclaimed as she skidded into DNA, where Catherine was awaiting results of the swab she'd done on the glove liner.

Catherine raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

"Hector Delgado. Waynright was employed in LA last year and was accused of touching Delgado's daughter. Guess who's in town on business this week?" Tracy found herself breathless.

"Nicky's been cleared! There was no GSR on his shirt, and the DNA I swabbed from the liner of his glove came back to his as well as an unknown male," Catherine replied with a smile, waving the report triumphantly.

Tracy suddenly found her knees buckling and would have fallen if the older woman hadn't caught her. "I knew he didn't do it," she said softly. "He's been acting so strangely, though, since Mara told us what happened."

"Ask him what happened when he was nine. Just be gentle about it. I'm the only one he's ever told," Catherine replied quietly, as she helped Tracy back to her feet.

Tracy's eyes widened, but she didn't ask, knowing Catherine wouldn't divulge anything else.

"Go to him, Tracy. Take him home."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Nicky!" Tracy screamed, throwing herself at Nick as he walked out of the locker room, where he'd changed out of the hated orange jump suit and into his spare clothes from his locker.

Nick pulled her into his embrace, and buried his head in her neck. He let out a sigh, and they just stood like that for several minutes.

Finally, Nick pulled away, and very quietly said, "Let's go home!" It sounded almost like a plea, and nearly broke Tracy's heart in two.

"I already called Greg. He knows we're on our way. He fed the kids and put them down a couple of hours ago," Tracy couldn't believe it had been hours since Nick had been arrested. It felt like days, but it was only now one a.m. "We'll talk when we get home."

The ride home passed slowly. Now that the adrenaline that had been fueling her all day had worn off, she had to fight to stay awake. Nick stared blankly at his hands, and Tracy knew he must still be in shock about everything that had happened.

At the house, Greg met them at the door. He threw his arms around Nick, kissing the older man on the lips. Pulling away, Greg and Tracy maneuvered Nick into the livingroom to the sofa.

He sank onto the sofa, still staring off into the distance.

Tracy finally grabbed Nick's face, forcing him to look at her.

That finally drew a reaction from him. Cradling his head in his hands, Nick began to sob. He choked out, "I- I th- thought I... I really thought I..." but he couldn't finish.

Pulling Nick's head up so he was looking at her again, Tracy felt tears begin to slide down her own cheeks at the sight of the tears streaming from his. Her voice was steady, though, as she said, "You could _never_ cold bloodedly kill someone!"

Greg put a hand on Nick's back. "You are the gentlest man I've ever known! It's not in your nature!"

"I wanted to, though! God, I wanted to tear his heart out! I almost hoped it had been me pulling the trigger!" Laughing mockingly through his sobs, he said, "I imagined the target was his face, when I was at the shooting range before work yesterday." Nick tried to bury his head in his hands again, but Tracy kept a firm grip on him.

"Does this have anything to do with what happened when you were nine?" she asked very softly.

Nick's body tensed. "How did you find out about that?" His eyes looked haunted, and Tracy wished there was a way she could take his hurt away.

"Catherine," at the mention of Catherine's name, Nick's eyes blazed. Tracy hurried on, "didn't tell me what happened, just to ask you about when you were nine."

Nick's eyes took on a far away look, losing the anger. "There are just some people you're supposed to be able to trust," he began quietly, finally bearing his soul completely to the two people he loved most in the world.

A/N: Okay, so the end of another story. I'm thinking about writing a one shot for when Tracy is pregnant with the twins.

Summary would be something like: Being five months pregnant has left Tracy feeling ugly and fat. Nick and Greg want to reassure her that they still find her incredibly attractive.

Let me know what you think. As always, I thrive on reviews!


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